The Rise of the Lost: The Primordial Darkness Book 1
by SonataGoodFanfic
Summary: The god of the Underworld has gone "AWOL". Whatever he's doing, it is not with permission of the rest of the gods; they have a reason to suspect Hades is amassing an army of dead to invade the world. It would only make sense for demigods to be swept up in everything—this generation of heroes is not very well-equipped to handle a war, but a war they will have to handle.
1. I: Walter

Seven nights before the end of October, and Walter already went to his knees to pray for a mass bug extinction. Surprisingly enough, Oregan autumns were just as mosquito-filled as summer in New York.

It was around a high noon that his day really began to suck, much like the previous five days since he left Las Vegas. For the past week, his rather rude wake-up call would be three old women screaming and yelling. It was not until day three that he realized they were saying anything: "You helped kill them. Vengeance."

Walter's life became run, hide, rinse and repeat. A complete cycle of life and death—literally. So far, seven nights before the end of October, the screaming of those women had not made their daily appearance.

Walter needed supplies. His collection of firewood had depleted fast over the last few days—maybe he used too much. It would not have been the first time. How fitting, really, that his story would start and stop in a forest, surrounded by wood, unable to start a single spark.

He scanned his surrounding, making sure that there was nothing lurking near by. He got up and got a good whiff of himself. Nasty—he smelled like death, and he knew what death smelled like. It burned his nose hairs. The luxury of a bubble bath and rose scented water eluded him.

The woods weren't too bad. Yeah, that was a lie. They absolutely sucked. He couldn't stand it, but he was used to it. He was safe away from those women, away from the noise, away from civilization. In fact, he kind of liked it away from civilization. He could think and study, maybe even practice. The world was so different from what he last remembered. It seemed scary, busy, he felt like he was a man out of time.

Walter smacked a tree branch out of the way, careful of where he stepped. He had had the misfortune of stepping on a hedgehog before; he would not like to have that experience again. His backpack bounced across his back as he walked. He looked up at the sky. The sun burned high in the sky, shedding midday light into the world; clouds parted the sky into thirds, the trees cutting them off at the throat. He brought his head back down and ducked under some shade.

Walter didn't know what to do anymore. He was supposed to get firewood, but he couldn't help but think about a good bath. He got distracted, which wasn't like him in these circumstances. It was hot, his mosquito bites itched, and he smelled. The shade of the tree was cool, the grass was soft, and Walter was ready for a nap.

Getting up might have been the hardest thing he'd done.

Eventually, he came across a pond. He silently thanked the gods and began to take off his clothes and spear. He dipped his feet in the water. Surprisingly, it was warm, so he slid into the water. Warm water ran all over his sweat-covered neck. He laid his head against the shore and closed his eyes.

It was nice, peaceful, so of course it wouldn't last very long. But... Walter couldn't help it. It had been rough five days, and he wanted to take advantage of the moment. And it was quickly ruined.

Walter was only in the pond for about three good minutes when he heard distant flapping. He hadn't even opened his eyes when things that weren't birds came at him, screaming like something damned. He knew what they were—he could call them by name—the Furies.

They carried flaming whips, curling smoke, undoubtedly steaming in the water. Walter immediately rushed out of the pool, with time only to grab what was necessary—his pants, his jacket, and of course, his backpack. He threw them on as fast as he could and began to run. He knew that they'd catch up with him eventually. His necklace bounced on his bare chest.

"You helped killed them," they screamed. "Their blood is on your hands. Vengeance will be served."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Walter yelled back at them. His pleads wouldn't stop them from chasing him, he knew, but he felt the need to be honest. He'd never killed anyone important enough for the Furies.

"Vengeance," they screamed in response. It sounded like they were gaining up on him fast.

Think, Walter, think, he thought. How do I slow them down? A wild idea popped in his head. He held out his hand—hard to do when running in a forest and tripping over roots and wet leaves from the autumn rain.

"Globus igneus," he said. A spark ignited in his hand and flames began to grow. The flames started to bend anto the shape of a ball and the flaming ball grew to the size of a softball. The heat was intense, but he wasn't getting burned. Without looking behind him, he threw the fireball in the direction of the Furies. From the horrible screeching of one Fury, Walter would say he hit one of them.

"You destroyed our sister!" yelled the two remaining Furies. "May more vengeance reign down on your soul."

"Oh, please," yelled Walter. He skidded to a halt in the forest, leaves making him lose his balance slightly. "You'll just return in like a day or two like you always do." The Furies screamed wordlessly in response.

Walter edged towards the end of the woods. Glancing behind him, he saw a small hill leading to a highway, which meant people, which meant safety. Of a sort.

He rushed down the hill into oncoming traffic, trying to avoid the cars, swerving and honking and cursing this young boy. Stupid fifteen year old running out into open traffic trying not to be killed by flying, leathery bat women.

He crossed the median and hoped that meant he was safe. As he hit the other side of the forest, gravel skidding under his bare feet, and he knew he was safe until the Furies found a way across the highway.

A car stopped right in front of Walter. He immediately rushed over to it and pounded on the window. It had worked back in Las Vegas, where the people were drunk or high on drugs and more willing to let some dirty kid into their car. Oregon might call for more desperate measures.

"Kid," the driver said. "What the hell is the matter with you? What, you want to get killed?"

" _Mente dedere meae_!" cried Walter, his voice tight with panic. In the reflection the rainy window provided him, he could see his eyes glowing purple. Walter felt drained energy. He wanted to stop and take a breather for a minute, but he couldn't. The driver's eyes started to glow purple as well—a sure sign he was going under.

"I'm at your command," the driver replied, his voice sleepy and contemplative. "What do you need?" Walter was glad the car had pulled over to the side of the road, so they weren't hit by more cars.

"I need you to drive me—anywhere! Wherever you're going," Walter said, all in a rush, the slurred words spilling out of his mouth. He placed his open palm on the glass in a gesture of desperation. "Please hurry!"

The Furies screamed from the treeline behind him. They cracked their whips, but didn't seem to be able to cross the highway. Maybe they were scared of becoming yellow dust floating in the wind caused by cars rushing past each other at a hundred miles an hour.

"Where do you want to go?" the driver asked. He unlocked the doors to the car, and Walter slid in the backseat—leather, like the Furies. He tried not to touch it with his bare hands or exposed skin.

Walter looked up at the man, still shocked at the kind of power he was able to wield. "What's your name?" he asked breathily.

"Bret?" Bret asked in return, his voice loopy.

"Okay. Bret," Walter began, taking in deep breaths."I would like you to take me as far away from Oregon as you possibly can. Please."

"Okay," said Bret sleepily. He put the car in drive. The AC was on full blast, the radio was playing quiet jazz. He liked jazz music for some odd reason. The lull of cars rushing by outside was… soothing.

Walter was tired and drained of energy, leading him to finally do what he couldn't do for seven days. He closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.


	2. II: Rose

"Good, Naomi, now please… please attack Sunshine," Rose said. "We've been here for hours."

"But he is my friend," Naomi said, twirling her baseball bat around. She looked all around the training arena. "And it is about to rain."

Rose looked up as well. The clouds had spread over the sky, turning it gray and black and white. They swirled over each other, creating points and curls—over near the horizon, the trees swayed in the wind.

"See you," Naomi said, skipping off towards her cabin. Rose opened her mouth to say something—anything—but she knew Naomi would have her earbuds in at full blast, unable to hear a word anyone said. She deflated somewhat.

"You can go too," Rose said to Sunshine, who stood in the middle of the training center, holding his ukulele. "Training is over." Training had been over for hours. Chiron had pulled Rose aside after the general camp-wide session—there weren't that many of them anyway—and asked (read: told) her to keep Naomi and Sunshine back to train some more.

"I bet you're tired," Rose said in the silence Sunshine brought upon them. The trees shushed in the background, and leaves started blowing across the sandy floor. Rose clutched at her arms, covered in thin long sleeves under her camp shirt.

"Come with me," Sunshine said. "We can listen to music, we have free time now." He lifted his ukulele in invitation. "I think you need a little pick-me-up."

Rose looked at the ukulele. She did need a pick-me-up. She also needed to read _Great Expectations_ for English class. School in the city was tough. She was already behind, since quests and all-day camp activities took her out of school more than was really helpful. She couldn't even bring any of her school friends over. They were all mortal and unable to cross camp boundaries. And they would think she was weird to live in a summer camp.

"Maybe later," she said to the ukulele. "I have reading to catch up on."

"Okay," Sunshine said. "I'll see you around, then. Thanks for taking the time out of your day to train Naomi and I. We appreciate it."

"Okay," Rose said. "See you."

Her arms still wrapped around her, with her sack of seeds hanging on her hip swaying back and forth, Rose made her miserable way back to the cold and empty Demeter cabin. The wind picked up, threading its fingers through her rose, red hair (for which she was named) and pulling it along ahead of her.

She glanced back at the training arena when she got to her cabin. Sunshine paced back and forth in the sand. He plucked the strings of his ukulele. The notes drifted across the air to land in Rose's ears.

Rose gave out a long sigh and closed her door. She stared at the giant oak tree holding up the ceiling of the cabin.

" _Whassa matter, Rose?"_ the tree asked her. Rose leaned up against the door and looked up at the tree's spread branches. Rain dripped on the leaves, but didn't make their way down to the cabin itself.

"Nothing," she replied. She made her away across the grass floor to her bed. "Just another failed attempt to train Sunshine and Naomi, and just another reading assignment that I _don't_ want to do."

" _It's not that bad,"_ the oak tree replied. Rose landed on her bed. "Great Expectations _is a great book, so I've been told."_

"It is _that bad,_ Oakie," Rose said with much emotion. She spread her hands up in front of her in a gesture of helplessness. "It's been three weeks and yet Sunshine and Naomi still won't train, and it's all up to me to fix them because _I_ found them."

" _Yikes,"_ said Oakie. " _Uh… at least it's quiet so you can read."_

"That's true," Rose agreed. "The thing is, it's _too_ quiet. No one is here." She let out another sigh. "I wish George or Layla were here."

" _Hey,"_ said Oakie in a tone that was obviously supposed to pick up Rose's spirits. " _I'm here for ya."_

"That's true, I guess," said Rose nonchalantly. She turned her head away from Oakie and hid her smile.

" _Now give me a hug,"_ said Oakie. Rose was imaging that if Oakie had actual arms, he'd be gesturing for her to come here.

"Oakie," Rose said. "You're a tree."

" _And you're a_ treehugger, _right?"_ Oakie asked.

"Touché," Rose said. She brought herself up from her bed and embraced the tough oak. "But you wouldn't use _treehugger_ in the sense that you used it in."

" _I know,"_ said Oakie, guilt coloring his voice. " _Just an excuse to get you to give me a hug."_

Rose giggled. "Now, if you'd excuse me, I got a book to read," she said.

" _I've got a better idea,"_ said Oakie. " _You could go out and make some friends."_

"But I've got a book to read," Rose argued. "Plus, I already know everyone at this camp."

" _Do you really know everyone here?"_ asked Oakie.

"Sure," Rose lied.

" _No you don't,"_ Oakie said. " _Go on, Rosie. You can read that book later."_

"If you insist," Rose said. She looked out the window and saw that it had stopped raining. Sunshine was playing his ukulele on the Apollo's cabin porch, no doubt singing. Rose opened the door and walked outside.

"Bye, Oakie," said Rose.

" _Later, Rosie,"_ Oakie replied. He'd probably wave if he still had actual arms. Rose closed the door and breathed in a fresh breath of air.

"Let's go make friends," she said.

Rose walked by all of the cabins, and so far, no luck. The remaining members in Aphrodite shooed her off by throwing an actual shoe, the Ares cabin just yelled at her. The Hermes cabin was the most friendly, but they only wanted to pickpocket her and she decided she didn't need that type of company. All the Hephaestus kids were at the forges. The Hypnos kids were asleep, as usual. She knew everyone in the Apollo cabin and Hades cabin (which only consisted of Naomi). There was no one is the Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Dionysus, and Artemis cabins. No one answered the Hecate's cabin door, but Rose knew that some of her children were here. The kids in Iris' cabin were all out doing training. She thought about going to Nemesis and Nike's cabin, but the kids in Nemesis scared her and Nike's kids were overly competitive. And lastly, the remaining kids in Hebe's cabin were playing volleyball with the kids from Tyche's cabin. So, that meant that the Athena cabin was the last bet.

Their gray door loomed, intimidating. Rose raised her fist to knock, then reconsidered. Would they really want to hang out with her? There were only a couple kids in there, and they were all kind of… Athena kids. Standoffish, a little rude. Not that all Athena kids were bad. It's just _this_ handful of kids that were… Athena kids.

Before she had the chance to lower her fist, the door swung open. Rose backed up on instinct. Behind the door, Paul _bloody_ Winters groaned in annoyance and leaned against the doorframe.

"It's you," he said, in his smarmy British accent, his grey eyes full of irritation.

Rose straightened. She knew it wasn't right to hate such a wee thirteen year old, but he was just… so… _pretentious._ Self-absorbed?

"It is indeed me," Rose said. She crossed her arms across her chest, then decided that looked bad, then put them on her hips, then decided she was being awkward and crossed them again.

"You and your brogue, I see," Paul said with some disdain. "What do you want?"

Rose was tempted to answer _your money and your life, you cur._ "I was wondering if any of your siblings were available to hang out."

"No," Paul said shortly, then shut the door in her face.

Rose scoffed at the closed door. All at once, the frustration and loneliness of the past bloody _hour_ came rushing over her. She stamped her foot, and unknowingly balled her fists at her sides. "That's _it?_ You're just going to waltz away like you're the king of the world, like you're—like you're just _so good,_ you—"

The door swung open in a manner that suggested it was brushing Rose aside. Paul strode out like he did indeed own the world, a jacket slung over his shoulder, his blonde hair neatly combed. "I did not say I was unavailable. Do you wish to look at the horses?"

"Oh," Rose said, quite eloquently. "I—yes. Sure. That would be pleasant," she added, trying to sound sophisticated like Paul. Her efforts were in vain.

"Then we shall look at the pegasi," Paul said. As he walked forth, he slid his jacket over his arms. Rose hurried along, feeling more cowed by the minute.

They didn't really talk the length of the trip. But when they did, it was only because Paul was critiquing her every move.

"Don't walk like that," he would interject. "You look like a penguin."

Or it would be: "I can hear your breathing from here. Breathe quietly."

If Rose was looking at someone he would say: "Why are you staring at him? He's not that interesting."

If Rose wanted to say "Hi" to someone, Paul would angrily say: "I'm _your_ guest. Don't entertain anyone else."

The most recent thing Rose was critiqued on was when she accidentally tripped over a stone. Paul said: "You idiot. The stone was literally the size of a football. How did you not see it?"

"I'm Paul Winters," Rose muttered. "I think I'm better than everyone and my accent is stupid posh."

" _Your_ accent is quite repugnant," Paul replied. "Oh, and, heard that, thanks."

"It's true." Rose shoved her hands in her pockets and refused to look at the nuisance next to her. "Oh, look, we're here." _You bastard._

"No we are not."

"Yes, we _are."_

Paul must have seen something in Rose's eyes. He shrugged his shoulders in acquiescence. "It seems as if we are at… the pegasi stables."

Someone from the Aphrodite cabin cooed over the pegasi, brushing their glossy coats. They muttered a little song under their breath.

"Hey, Val," Rose said, trying to be casual. She raised a hand in greeting before hastily putting it back in her pocket. Valerie Simmons was one of the more friendly girls from the Aphrodite cabin. She had the prettiest blue eyes that went perfectly with her shiny black hair, and she always smelled like apples and cinnamon. In the cold of autumn, Val's usually red cheeks stood out even more than they did in summer. Val was just… beautiful.

"Hello, Rose," Valerie said, dream-like as ever. "You doing good?"

"As good as I can ever be," Rose replied, her words tripping over themselves. She had always liked Val. Val was cool. Val was interesting. Val didn't care about what anyone else thought about her. Rose cared about what Val thought of her.

"I can never understand what you're saying," Val mused. She flipped her hair over her shoulders. "Irish, right?"

"Scottish," Rose said, deflating, "actually."

Val hummed, still brushing the pegasi. It snorted and stomped one foot.

Rose waited a second; Val hummed more intensely.

Rose's breath caught in her throat. She shrugged her shoulders and turned sharply on her heel. Muttered to Paul— "Let's go."

This time, Paul was the one run-skipping after Rose. "You know, your crush is painfully obvious."

"I do not have a crush on Val," Rose groused. "I'm straight."

"So far as you know," Paul sing-songed. "You're still young. You can figure it out later."

 _Condescending piece of—_ "I know myself." Rose picked up the pace, not sure where she was heading. She passed the volleyball and tetherball courts—can't play on those anyway, it was too chilly outside. Plus, the Hebe and Nike cabins were still playing. "And I'm older than you."

"So you believe," Paul said. He tucked his hands behind his back and whistled, something with no tune.

"I know," Rose grumbled. Her shoes crunched over leaves; they were wet from the storm that had passed by and so didn't make a satisfying noise. "I know how old you are and how old I am."

"How old are you?" To be fair, Paul was a good conversationalist, just bad at being nice.

"Fifteen."

"I thought you were older," Paul mused. He bent to pick up a rock from the forest floor and mimed throwing it.

Rose lunged to smack his hand. "Don't throw that."

"Okay, _mum."_

"I'm not your _mum."_

"You act like my mum."

"Your mum is a god."

"So is yours."

"Stop. Just—stop."

Paul, surprisingly, stopped. They trudged the forest in silence for some time, Rose storming around with her hands fisted in her pockets, Paul pretending to throw stones at trees to get Rose riled up again.

Rose ground to a halt. The trees shushed around her, picking up the wind and inspecting it before letting it shift through their leaves. _Shh,_ they told her, _here, you will be safe. Here we are warm. Here we are all safe and warm._

"I think we're lost," Rose said, in as small a voice as she could manage. Paul froze behind her, poised to throw a quite jagged rock into the woods.

"You're kidding," he said, his educated Londoner accent slipping, replaced by his true Yorkshire accent. "We're _lost?"_

"I'm afraid so," Rose said very grimly, when all the while the trees were telling her which direction the camp was in. " _To your left. Now your forward. Step; you have legs. You are allowed to move them."_

Paul cursed.

"Don't say stuff like that, you're too young," Rose muttered. "Come on. I think we came from this way."

Paul ducked his shoulders into his jacket and followed Rose. She tuned out the trees telling her to go back, go back; she would just… play a little trick on Paul, was all. The bastard deserved it.

The trees slowly turned darker, their words coming less easily to Rose. She began to walk to her left, almost like making a big loop, only to find more of the big, dark trees, keeping their silence.

" _Turn back,"_ a small voice whispered to her. Rose felt the spirit of a tiny sapling, too innocent for this world; immediately, a torrent of shushing poured from all the other trees around her.

Rose cursed to herself. Paul, with his sharp ears, laughed obnoxiously. "You said I shouldn't say that!"

"Be quiet," Rose muttered to him. "Read the mood." Paul muttered something to himself. Rose couldn't understand what he had said.

"What did you say?" Rose asked. Paul shushed her.

"Don't shush me," Rose said indignantly.

"Seriously, be quiet," Paul said quickly. "I hear something." Rose closed her mouth and began to try to listen.

"I don't hear anything," she said finally.

"What do you mean?" asked Paul. "It sounds like something's cracking." Rose listened. Paul was right—it sounded as if rocks were being cracked open. The sound got louder and louder until it sounded as if it were underneath them.

Rose pushed Paul out of the way right as the ground underneath them opened. Rose looked and saw skeletal hands reach out grabbing for nothing but air, clawing the ground for nothing but dirt and leaves.

"What in the _Hades?"_ Rose yelled. The skeletal hands clawed their way out of the ground. Skeletons covered in dirt rose, as if they were in some cheap horror movie.

"How?" asked Paul. "How are they doing this?"

"Don't ask _me,"_ replied Rose, her voice rising several pitches. The skeletons wore an array of clothing ranging from modern day military attire to old Greek armor. They looked deadly, thirsty for blood. They looked around the woods until they found Rose and Paul lying on the ground. They stopped and stared at them.

"Rose?" Paul asked, his voice small.

"Yes?" Rose replied with an equally small voice.

"Shall we run?"

"Yep. That's a good idea." Rose and Paul scrambled to their feet as the skeletons began to charge. Wet leaves fluttered behind them.

Rose hoped they ran towards camp—the trees voices were definitely getting louder.

 _Keep going, Rose,_ they said. _Keep running. You'll be safe where we are. Safe and warm._ Rose came to a clearing and ground to a halt, sticking her arm out to let Paul know they needed to stop. She was out of breath and clutched her knees for support. If she had kept running, she would've passed out for sure. Paul was breathing hard right next to her.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, when he had the air. "We didn't lose them."

"I—I can't," she wheezed. "Can't run. Out of breath."

"You're a bloody demigod!" Paul yelled. "You can't afford to be 'out of breath'. Running is all we _do."_

"You're right," Rose agreed. "But I never was very good at running."

The skeletons clattered as they surround them. There were at least seven. Rose's eyes squeezed closed—this was not how she imagined going, and she didn't like it.

"Oh, great," Paul said. "Thanks to you being unfit, we're about to _die._ Just what I wanted to do today!"

"Okay. Look, Your Majesty," Rose said, growing tired of Paul's smart remarks. "I'm sick of you. I never said I was 'unfit'!"

"It's _His_ Majesty," Paul said.

"What?" Rose asked. She couldn't believe this.

"When you're speaking to a king and/or queen, you never say ' _your'_ ," Paul said simply. "You say ' _his'_ or ' _her'._ That is the _proper_ way of speaking to a king and/or queen."

"This is exactly my point!" Rose exclaimed. "You think you're right all the time, and you think you're so proper with your Central London accent. Guess what? You're not. I know your _true_ Yorkshire accent."

"One," Paul started. "I _am_ right all the time. Two, even _if_ I had a Yorkshire accent, it would be fake because I _am_ from London!"

"You know what?" Rose said. "Whatever. There is no point in arguing with you."

After the skeletons realized that Rose and Paul arguement was done, they immediately began to charge at them. But, no thanks to Paul, Rose was more angry than scared. She raised her hands to the sky. A tree root began to erupt from the ground and grow its way through one of the skeletons ribcage and, eventually, causing the skeleton to explode. Its bones flew everywhere.

Another tree root wrapped around a skeleton, picked it up, and smashed it on the ground, breaking its bones. Two more skeletons charged at Rose at the same time. Rose simply raised her hands and two tree roots struck the skeletons in their skulls at lighting speed. Rose turned around and found Paul doing some weird judo flip kick the last of the skeletons—he must've dealt with the other two somehow—and the skeleton burst into pieces. Rose gave Paul a slow, sarcastic clap.

"Well done," she said. "Took you long enough. You did that in a minute while I took mere _seconds."_

"I didn't know we were going to be timing each other," Paul said. "If I did I would've brought my stopwatch to prove how fast I can be."

"Please," Rose scoffed. "You did all that by hand."

"Exactly my point," Paul said. Rose scoffed and rolled her eyes. When she looked back at Paul, she jumped back, her hand flying to the bark of one of the trees that had sprung up behind her.

"What's the matter with you?" Paul tilted his head like an owl. Athena kid.

"The skeletons are coming back," Rose whispered. Paul whipped his head around and saw that—indeed—the bones were flying towards each other, reassembling.

 _Long live Darkness,_ they clattered, with voices as dry as an English beach was damp. _With Death chained, he will unleash terror like nothing this world has ever seen. Your souls will soon be corrupted, consumed, forgotten._

"That doesn't sound good," Paul observed.

"You think?" asked Rose. "This situation doesn't look good either."

"You think?" Paul parroted.

The dead began to charge. Rose put her hands up, preparing for the worst, but she didn't have to do anything. The skeletons froze, their hands raised in claws scant inches from Rose's nose. The ground cracked open and the skeletons were dragged back in as if the ground ate them. They did not scream.

"What in the Hades?" asked Paul.

"Hey," Rose said. "That's my saying."

"You think I care?" asked Paul. "Who could've done this?"

"The only person with the power to command the dead," Rose said. "Look." She pointed at something behind them. Paul turned around. Behind them stood a girl about the same age as Paul. She stood out like a sore thumb in the woods with her pastel purple clothing and pink Hello Kitty bat. She waved at them wildly.

"Hello," she said loudly, probably because she couldn't hear herself over her loud music.

"Hey, Naomi," Rose replied, waving. She couldn't have been more happier in her life to see her and that was saying a lot.

Naomi skipped off holding her Hello Kitty bat.

"That was weird," Paul said suspiciously.

"I know," replied Rose. She took in a deep breath. "I know."


	3. III: Paul

Paul stormed out of the woods, Rose hot on his heels. He liked the rush of power it gave him, having someone trail after him like he was the richest man on earth.

"It was _her,"_ he said between gritted teeth. "Demon child!"

"Calm daen," Rose said, in that _language_ she insisted was English but just sounded like one of those American garbage disposals. "Ees noh her."

"Speak _English,_ dammit," Paul hissed. He whirled on his heel to stare up at Rose. "No one can understand a word you say!"

Rose cleared her throat. "I unnerstand we been through a toof experience, but you have to unnerstand it weren't Naomi," she said. As she looked around, her wild red hair swirled around her shoulders. She should tie that up. "If anyone's planning on invading the camp, we should tell Chiron."

" _Yes,"_ Paul said, latching on to the very last phrase and discarding the rest. "We need to tell Chiron. Tell him how we were _attacked_ by the _demon child!"_

"Yerr goin into hysterics," Rose said, as calmly as she could. "We'll tell Chiron that we were attacked, an' leave it ah that."

"Fine." Paul twirled back around, suddenly feeling quite like a ballerina, and continued storming towards the Big House.

He brought his jacket closer around his body. The October air crackled around him, reminding him that this was another year he wouldn't be going trick-or-treating, like he thought he would when he first got to America.

He banged on the door to the Big House. It was common knowledge you didn't go in unless you were invited, because that was where the gods and the immortals lived, but Paul didn't _care._ He had just been attacked, he was cold, there was a leaf somewhere up his jeans, and he was _pissed._

Chiron opened the door in a sweater that read _Get Off Your High Horse._ Paul froze with his fist still raised in the air.

"Paul," Chiron began. Paul slowly looked up from the bright red sweater to the "Dumbledore" beard to finally land on Chiron's brown eyes. "This is… unexpected."

Rose shifted from foot to foot behind Paul. "Eh… terribly sorry, prof. We, ah."

"We were attacked," Paul declared. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down the horse man.

"Oh," Chiron said. "Well. Come on in, and we'll discuss this."

"I think I know who it is," Paul began as he strode in. Rose hissed at him, but he made a face, and he thought it made her back off.

"Here," Chiron said, gesturing to the sofas in the living room. "Tell me what happened first."

Paul let Rose describe their encounter, but she left out what the skeletons had said to them. Paul nudged her in her ribs.

"Are you forgetting something, I don't know, _important_ ," he whispered to her. Rose elbowed him back.

"I don't think so," she said. When Rose finished, Chiron sat in silence with a raised eyebrow.

When Paul realized no one was going to say anything, he spoke his mind. "I think it was Naomi."

"Mister Winters," Chiron started to say. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

"Yeah, Paul," Rose said. "Le's noh jump to conclusions."

"Miss McIntyre, I would really appreciate you not chiming in," Chiron simply stated. "What do you suppose should be our plan of action, if you were to believe no one in our camp would willingly harm another?"

Paul's breath caught in his throat. He was about to say _hold a witch trial,_ but reconsidered. His father would not accept such a brazen display of emotions over logic.

"I think, Mister Chiron, sir," Rose began, trying to sound proper like Paul, "that we hold a counselor's meeting."

"Paul? Would you agree?" asked Chiron.

Paul sighed. He knew he wouldn't be allowed in, as he wasn't a counselor; his half-sister Catherine Hernandez would instead preside over the meeting. But maybe he could talk to Catherine. If he could display his case to her as to _why_ Naomi was guilty, then she would obviously do the most logical thing and Naomi would be proven guilty. Maybe Paul has been watching too many _Law and Order_ episodes. He finally opened his mouth and said, "I give consent. But only if I'm able to come."

"Deal," Chiron said. "This pre-meeting has been adjourned. See you in a few minutes." Chiron waved his hand in dismissal. Rose and Paul left.

They reached the porch of the Big House when Paul pulled Rose aside.

"Why didn't you tell chiron about what the skeletons said?" he asked. "That was quite important, and not very smart of you."

"As of now," Rose said taking in a deep breath. "I don't want to scare anyone. If we told Chiron, everyone would begin to worry and then the peace will crumble. Plus, I'm sure that what they said didn't mean anything. They must've been talking about whoever summoned them." Paul raised an eyebrow. He didn't believe in what Rose was saying, but he could tell she didn't believe in what she was saying either.

"Oh, whatever," he said walking off, but it was Rose's turn to stop him.

"By the way, you better speak the truth and nothing but the truth," she whispered. "Naomi did nothing wrong. She _saved_ us."

"Oh believe me," Paul said. "I _plan_ on telling the truth."

"SO, asshole, how's it hangin," Paul muttered to himself outside the Athena cabin, preparing himself for Catherine inside. He considered. "Okay, no. What's up, fuckers! Too much. Hey Catherine, would like to hear my four-step plan to condemn Naomi to eternal hell at camp?"

"No," came Catherine, as she opened the door and walked outside the Athena cabin. She began to tie up her blonde hair."You need some professional help, half-brother of mine."

"Shut up, Catherine," Paul replied. "No hey wait-"

"Too late," Catherine said. She closed the door and began striding down the stairs, slipping her jacket on her shoulders. "I have an important meeting to go to, and no shrimps allowed."

"I don't know what that was supposed to mean," Paul deadpanned, "but as a matter of fact, as I was the one to call the meeting, I _am_ invited."

"Is that so," Catherine said. She looked over the horizon, not daring to meet Paul's intense, grey eyes.

"Oh, very so," Paul said matter-of-factly.

"Alright then," Catherine said, definitely giving into whatever sinister plan Paul was concocting in his little British mind. She was cracking. Catherine hailed from the Bronx, so she imagined Paul was one of those evil geniuses from the _telly_ she used to watch. Paul was sure like Loki or any of those James Bond supervillains. Moriarty. The Daleks. She sat down on the hanging chair on the porch and motioned for him to sit next to him. Paul walked over and sat down.

"So," Catherine exasperated, obviously not wanting to hear what he had to say. Paul chose to ignore that. "What do you want to tell me?"

"So," Paul began. "You know what happened and why the meeting was called right?"

"Yeah," Catherine replied obviously. "Mike told me."

"Mike?" asked Paul. "I don't know that name."

"How do you not?" Catherine asked. "He's the counselor for Ares. You challenged him to a sword fight. You beat him?"

"Ah," Paul said, as it finally dawned on him. "That Mike. That's probably why I can't remember him. After I beat him, he became irrelevant."

"Yeah," said Catherine. "I find that hard to believe. Anyway, Mike told me that you and Rose were attacked by some skeletons. We're going to discuss your accusations, but mainly we're discussing the overall-"

"So you agree that it's Naomi?" Paul asked excitement filling his voice.

"No," Catherine said. "I never said that." Paul deflated.

"But it's _so_ obvious," he whined. "She is the only one who can control the dead. She _attacked_ me. I could've _died."_

"Paul," Catherine said. "Rose was attacked too. She could've _died_ too. Not everything is about you."

"But it _is,_ " Paul whined even more. " _Everything_ is about me. I'm just that good."

"Your thirteen-year-old is showing," Catherine said.

"Ugh," Paul exclaimed. "Why did I think talking to you would help my case? For a child of Athena, you can't seem to see reason or logic. Naomi attacked me with her devil powers! She should be burned at the stake!"

"Paul." Catherine groaned, resting her head in her hands. This conversation must have given her a headache, but Paul didn't care. He wasn't going to give up. "This isn't the Salem Witch Trials anymore. We'll leave that in the 17th century. Second of all, as a child of Athena, I _do_ see reason and logic, and it makes no sense for Naomi to attack you. She had no reason to. She has no personal vendetta against anyone, and I'm pretty damn sure that _you_ , of all people, don't matter that much to her. So why would she take her time, out of her day, out of her life, to try to kill you and Rose? (To mention Rose.) It makes no sense. She is one of the nicest, sweetest girls here, meaning _logically,_ your logic is illogical. Now, if you'll excuse me, as the head counselor for the Athena cabin, I have a meeting to attend and I do not plan on being late. Good day, Paul."

Catherine left Paul speechless. Catherine just called his logic illogical? Never! Paul was the most logical, most intelligent, most reasonable person he'd ever known. How dare she? Just because she was three years older than him did _not_ mean she was smarter than him. Fine! If Catherine won't help him condemn Naomi, he'd just have to do it himself—by any means necessary.


	4. IV: Naomi

"We bring this meeting to start," Chiron said, useless over the horde of teenagers pretending they were anything except themselves. John Harper from Hypnos and Tyler Cox from Hebe were both trying to flirt with Val Simmons, who had no interest in either of them, but was instead staring at Kaden Jones's (Hephaestus) big muscles.

"Order," Chiron said, but he knew there would be no order. "Order." Naomi knew there would be no order as well. It was like trying to count chickens in an open field.

Paul Winters sat behind Catherine Hernandez, both from Athena, both whispering viciously to each other. Naomi leaned back in her chair, the front two legs lifting up. Bethany Callahan from Nemesis gently pushed her forward again until she was sitting properly.

Paul seemed to snap—he hissed something at Catherine to make her recoil, then stood up and shouted " _Order!"_ until all the chickens were quiet.

"Thank you, Paul," Chiron said into the silence. "This emergency meeting has been called to let you know that two of our own have been attacked in the woods."

Paul's stare pinned Naomi to her seat. She didn't back down. She knew her hooded gaze—her auntie said she looked like an owl sometimes—it scared people. Paul didn't seem to get scared.

"By _skeletons,"_ Paul declared. At once, everyone else in the room turned to look at Naomi, like one singular monster with many eyes. Naomi raised her eyebrows at it. She would not be afraid.

"Which is not the focus of our meeting," Chiron said. If he had been a horse, Naomi was sure he would have stomped one foot, but for the time being he remained in a wheelchair. "If someone has infiltrated the camp, we must rethink our strategy on how to keep campers safe."

Tyler Cox scoffed. "What, shouldn't you, like, take that up with our parents? They're gods. They have to take care of us."

Jessica Davis from Hecate piped in, delicate as a flower. "What if the threat didn't come from _outside_ the camp? There are several members of our establishment that do not quite see the benefits of remaining here, safe as we are."

"Cut the debate team bullshit, Jess, no one's going to sabotage the camp," Mike from Ares said. "We've gone through all that before."

"I just worry," Jessica said, simpering like she was innocent. "Not everyone learns from the mistakes of the past." She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulders and shot Naomi a look. Subtle. Everyone saw it.

Naomi kicked her feet up on the rec table again and leaned her chair back, refusing to respond. She touched the iPod in her pocket, considering, not quite daring because Chiron was looking right at her. John fell asleep on Bethany's shoulder, who just shrugged him off.

"What exactly do you mean?" Catherine asked Jessica, prissy girl to prissy girl. They understood each other.

"Well," Jessica started. "I just… I just think there are some people who don't _appreciate_ this camp like you and I do."

"Everyone here appreciates this camp just fine," Catherine replied. Jessica sat in silence.

"Ooh, she got you," Mike said, full of glee.

"Mikey," Valerie started, her voice soft and sweet. "Don't pick on Jessica. She was just trying to make a point." Mike blushed.

"Yeah, okay, Val," he said, his face turning more red with each word. Naomi slowly and sneakily put one earplug in.

"Okay, everyone," Chiron interjected, exasperated. Naomi tried to tune out whatever everyone else was saying, but they kind of made themselves known. "Let's get back on topic. In all my years…."

"Sorry, Chiron," Rose said. She stood up from the table. "So. Paul an' I were walkin in the woods, right, an' the trees got spooky, an' all these sounds were happening at once. Then we hear this crackin' noise and whatnot. Then the ground opened up an' out came these skeletons. They chased us, we fought them an' destroyed them at first, but then they came back. An' then Naomi was there, an' she helped us defeat them." Naomi looked up from where she was scrolling through her playlist. Everyone had turned their eyes at her. She saw Paul roll his eyes.

"So, Naomi _didn't_ attack you?"asked Bruce. It was Naomi's turn to roll her eyes.

"Noh tha I no of," Rose replied. Paul stood up fast enough that his chair fell to the floor with a bang. Everyone looked at it. No one moved to pick it up.

"I object!" he declared, delayed somewhat. He declared many things.

Chiron let out a deep sigh. Everyone else either face palmed themselves or rolled their eyes.

"Go ahead, Paul," Chiron said.

"Naomi _did_ attack us," he said, quite confidently. " _Then_ she had the audacity to wave at us as if we are friends."

"I want to be nice," Naomi said, the first thing she had said all evening. "I am a _nice person."_

"Oh, please," Paul hissed. "You are an agent of _darkness."_

Sunshine Charles from Apollo plucked a string on his ukulele. "Come on, guys," he said, his voice colored with serenity. "Why can't we all be friends?"

"Shut up, _Sunshine,"_ Paul said, filled with an unstoppable anger. "Go smoke some weed, sing some dumb Steven Universe song, whatever you _hippies_ do."

Naomi immediately jumped up from her seat, her iPod stowed away in her pocket, her chair skidding back several feet. "Do not talk to Sunshine like you did." Her voice was steely calm, but filled to the brim with anger, just waiting for an excuse.

"It's fine, Naomi," he said, diffusing the tension. "Paul just needs to let out some unchecked aggression. It's healthy for him." He began to quietly hum a song.

"Don't say that, you homeless—" Paul began, and was immediately interrupted.

"That's enough out of you," Catherine said, while pulling Paul back down into his seat.

"Aww," Mike said. "I wanted to see those two duke it out." Valerie and Bethany chuckled.

"Children!" Chiron yelled so loudly that John hit his head on the table and woke up. "Can we please focus on the task at hand? Mike, please stop encouraging fights. Paul, stop accusing people at random. Naomi, take those earplugs out of your ears. Kaden, although your muscles are very impressive, please stop flexing for Miss Valerie. Gerald, give bruce back his wallet, watch, and shoe. John, stay awake, just this once, please? And Jessica, your cloud people are very wonderful, but they're distracting Jesús and Tyler. And Sunshine, you have a lovely voice, but please sing quietly if you find the need to sing at all. Now, who has something to say, and Paul, I don't mean you. You have said enough."

Catherine stood up calmly. "Chiron, may I have the floor?" Chiron made a hand motion that obviously meant that the floor was hers. Naomi wrapped up her earplugs and put them in her pocket.

"So, we based off of Paul's accusations and other observations, we can say that Naomi attacked Paul and Rose, right?" Naomi's eyes opened wide.

"I did not do it!" she exclaimed, bursting to her feet again. "I thought you were helping."

"Let me finish," Catherine simply replied. The other counselors murmured in agreement. "So before we finalize this conclusion that we're coming towards, we must ask ourselves: where _was_ Naomi when Rose and Paul entered the forest? No one can commit a crime if they're not at the crime scene."

"Dining pavilion," Naomi muttered, sitting back in her chair. "Lunch."

"Naomi," Catherine said. "Can you remember what time you were eating lunch, or at least give us an estimate?"

"Um," Naomi said, wracking her brains for the memory of a watch, or a clock. "About three?"

"Okay," Catherine said. Her grey eyes had a look of focus and concentration. She turned to Rose and Rose's head picked up. "Rose, about what time would you say you entered the forest?"

"Also about three," she said.

"So, that rules out Naomi following Rose and Paul," Catherine said. Naomi could see the brain factory working full speed. "Which... I'm pretty sure she would've done if she really wanted to attack them."

"True," said Kaden. "But could've she just told the skeletons to find them?"

"Yes. Rose," Catherine said, filing Kaden's question for later. Naomi was starting to see where Catherine was going. "You said the ground opened up and the skeletons came out?"

"Yes," Rose said, a questioning tone in her voice. Catherine turned to Naomi.

"Naomi, in order for you do cause skeletons to come out the ground, or whatever it is you would do, wouldn't you have to either know the location of Rose and Paul, or be in the same area as Rose and Paul?"

"Yeah," Naomi said. "Can't send skeletons anywhere by ground if don't know where target are. Is." Naomi looked over at Paul, who had anger burning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Catherine stopped him.

"Not now, Paul," she said without even looking at him. Naomi watched as Paul's mouth closed and his face turned slowly red. "Well, that is one way that Naomi is innocent. She couldn't have summoned the skeletons to attack you because she wasn't in your general area or knew your location." Catherine was seriously dissecting this and Naomi loved it. It felt like some big-shot lawyer was defending her from a life sentence.

"Okay," Tyler said. "But what if… she summoned the skeletons outside the forest and sent them after Rose and Paul?"

"Yeah?" asked Jesús. "I can see that happening."

"Come on, nimrods," Catherine said. "Keep up. The skeletons came out of the _ground."_

"That was obvious," Jessica said. She looked over at Naomi, and gave her a smile. Naomi looked at the table. She didn't forget, and rarely forgave.

"So about the skeletons coming back," Catherine said. "Naomi, what were you doing in the forest in the first place?"

"Visiting Ivy," she said, quickly. "Dryad friend."

"So, in order to get the whole truth and nothing but the truth," Catherine started. "I need you to swear on the River Styx to tell me the truth of what happened while you were in the woods." Everyone took a deep breath, even Naomi. Catherine's grey eyes looked at Naomi with encouragement. Somehow, she knew Naomi was innocent.

"Catherine," Valerie started. "Are you sure you want Naomi to make this kind of deal?"

"Very sure," Catherine said. "Well?"

Naomi took a deep breath. "I swear on the River Styx to tell the truth about what I was doing in the woods," she said with her eyes closed the entire time. Ominous thunder boomed overhead.

"Go ahead," Catherine encouraged.

"After lunch," Naomi started, "went to visit Ivy. After visit to Ivy, was going to leave to go to back to camp, but sensed a death. A—dead things. Followed it. Came across Rose and Paul in woods to fight skels. Skeletons. Skeletons are hard to defeat, so decided to help out and destroyed them. Then left." Naomi closed her eyes prepared herself to burn up, or whatever happened when you broke your oath. She told the truth, but what if she missed a detail or accidentally got something wrong?

She opened her eyes to see that she was very much still alive. Everyone stared at her with wide eyes, some smiles here and there.

"Well," Catherine said finally. "That's that. Naomi is innocent. She did not attack Paul and Rose." Everyone clapped and cheered, except Paul.

"That's it?" he asked, his voice rising several octaves than normal. "You're going to take her word for it?"

"Swearing on the River Styx is the most serious oath you could make," Bethany said. "Had Naomi broke it, she would've—well, I don't know what happens if you break an oath. I don't think it's ever been done." Paul sat down in his chair and folded his arms. Seeing Paul defeated brought so much joy to Naomi.

"Great job, Catherine," Chiron said, a rare piece of praise.

"Thank you, Chiron," Catherine said, beaming ear to ear.

"Still," he said, his voice growing serious. "We have other important matters to discuss like where the skeletons came from. As we all know, Naomi didn't summon them. So it must have been someone else."

"Quest," Bethany whispered, right next to Naomi. "Quest quest quest."

"Quest quest quest," said Jess, who sat across from Bethany. Gradually, the rest of the kids around the rec table picked up the chant. Even Naomi muttered along. Seemed like everyone except Paul wanted a _quest quest quest._

"Order," Chiron said, again. "So you all want a quest?"

"Yes," came the general response.

"Very well." Chiron wheeled himself around the head of the table. "Anyone know who should lead?"

The rec table fell immediately silent. Paul stuck his arm in the air and waved it slightly; Chiron ignored him.

"Anyone want to volunteer?"

Paul kept waving his hand in the air. He even tilted his head back and groaned when it became evident everyone ignored him.

"We should bring this up with the rest of the camp," Catherine said. "I mean… for the sake of experience, I would say Rose should lead, because she knows what she's going up against."

Naomi would have called bullshit, but her presence at the table was… threatened a little. She didn't want to rock the boat any more than her existence already had.

Rose—the Scottish one that no one could understand, especially not Naomi, not even on her good days—Rose was too timid. She acted younger than Naomi; her auntie would have called Rose _monitor lizard face_ but perhaps that was too cruel. An insult to monitor lizards everywhere. At least they didn't look like they had acne scars all over their faces. _Freckles._ Just a cover up for smallpox scars. No one had said anything against Rose being the leader of this quest, much to Naomi's dislike.

"So, it is agreed then?" Chiron asked the counselors. "We all agree that Rose should lead this quest." There was a murmur of agreement. Naomi wanted to speak out, but she couldn't. She _wouldn't_.

"The congregation agrees," Catherine said, like a judge casting his final decision. All eyes turned to Rose, but Naomi barely lifted her eyes to look around the table.

"And what say you, Rose?" Chiron asked. Rose stood up. _Please say no, please say no,_ Naomi silently pleaded.

"I accept," Rose said with confidence. The counselors burst with cheers and clapping, but all Naomi could do was put in her earplugs to tune them all out.


	5. V: Sunshine

The light of the bonfire illuminated the campers gold, the flames billowing high. Sunshine was currently leading the campfire song, "I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great Grandpa." He loved singing. It made people happy and that's something he enjoyed. Chiron pulled out some marshmallows, Hershey's chocolate, and graham crackers, both cinnamon and regular old honey.

"Does anyone want to make s'mores?" he asked. About everyone's hand went up, so Chiron began to pass the ingredients around. Sunshine began to tune his ukulele.

"You want some?" Gerald Ferguson, the Hermes counselor, asked him.

"No thanks, man," Sunshine said. "I'd rather you guys share them." Gerald handed the marshmallows to a fellow camper. Sunshine laid back and began to pluck his ukulele strings.

"Is anyone up for another song?" Sunshine asked the campers. The campers began to cheer meaning that they wanted to sing more, but Chiron stomped on the ground with his hoof.

"I know that we all are having a great time," he said loudly. "But we have important matters to discuss. We have just assigned a quest to our dear friend Rose McIntyre." Rose stood up and waved at them nervously. Sunshine replied with a radiant smile.

"Now," Chiron continued. "I'll let Miss McIntyre take it from here." All eyes turned to Rose whose face was as red as her hair.

"Um," she started off. "Thank you, Chiron. Um, I dinnae ken-I don't know if you heard, but me and Paul got attacked in the woods earlier today."

"By what?" asked a girl from the Hephaestus cabin.

"By skeletons," Rose said. Sunshine plucked the wrong string. The eyes looked to Naomi, who obviously wasn't paying any attention because she was listening to her music. "It weren't Naomi, if tha's what you are thinking. We've already discussed that."

"Well, who was it?" asked a guy from the Aphrodite cabin.

"Tha's what we're tryin to figure out," Rose said. "Tha's why we have a quest. To figure out who did it, an' why they did it."

"Well," said some guy from the Athena cabin. "Isn't it obvious? The person who did this was obviously Hades. He's, like, the only one who has that kind of power." Naomi took out her earplugs as if someone had mentioned her name. After no one said anything, she put them back in.

"Let's not make accusations like that," Chiron said. "This is not something you want to throw out there. You can anger someone quite easily."

"But he's not wrong, Chiron," Catherine said. "Hades could have done this. No one else can summon a skeleton within camp borders except Naomi, and we already proved her innocent."

"But why would Hades feel the need to do something like that?" Sunshine said. He played a chord. "The gods made their peace with him. His children are accepted in the camp, and he is honored among the Olympians."

"Good point, Sunshine," Catherine said. "I didn't think of that." Sunshine smiled at her.

"Glad I could offer a different perspective," he said, beaming at her. "It's how we learn."

"Well," said Mike. "Now I'm even more confused. If Hades didn't do this, so we believe, then who did?" The ground rumbled beneath them. Everyone freaked out a little bit.

"Calm down, everyone," Chiron said reassuringly. "No need to create a fuss."

The ground cracked open, skeleton hands grabbing air. They crawled their way out to the screaming campers.

 _Long live Darkness,_ they whispered as they approached the bonfire. _With Death chained, he will unleash terror like nothing this world has ever seen. Your souls will soon be corrupted, consumed, forgotten._

They walked towards the campers. Chiron began to fire his arrows at the skeletons, but they didn't cause them to stop.

Sunshine jumped to his feet, but he just couldn't do anything. Normally, he'd play music, but the skeletons didn't have ears. Mike led a small group of his brothers and sisters in a charge to fight the skeletons.

 _Darkness will reign forever,_ they said, grabbing for campers. _The Lord of Darkness commands it._ One of the skeletons grabbed a camper, Mike came after it, but he had no need to fight it. The ground opened up once again, and the skeletons were swallowed up once again. Naomi stood there, hand stretched out wide, one earplug out of her ear.

"Getting tired of dead things coming everywhere," she said, in her typical Naomi way.

"Tha's what the skeletons said earlier," Rose said, a dull observation.

"What do you mean?" Sunshine asked Rose. Rose gave him a wild look—her eyelids peeled back from her light pupils, the rest of her face lit like a demon from the bonfire.

"The second time Paul and I were attacked, the skeletons said those exact words."

"And you didn't think to mention that at the meeting?" Mike yelled, anger filling his voice.

"I din't think it was tha' important," she protested. "I thought it was just something they say or whatever. Plus, I wasn't trying to frighten anyone."

" _Frighten_ anyone?" Mike voice was getting louder. "Well, I think—"

"Mike, that is enough," Catherine said. "Rose was doing what she thought was best."

"He has plenty right to be mad," Bethany said. "I mean—that's a piece of information."

"Beth, that's not your place," Jessica murmured.

"Rose withheld important information," Bethany continued. "That isn't right. That could've helped us in the long run. Do you think she should still be the leader of this new quest? What else is she keeping from us?"

"We all voted on Rose being the leader fairly," Valerie said. "It is fair. Sure, she made a mistake, but we shouldn't condemn her for it."

Paul chimed in. "Frankly, I agree with Beth. Rose wouldn't make a good leader."

"No one asked for your opinion, Paul," Rose and Catherine said together.

"But my opinion matters," Paul said.

Sunshine watched as tension rose between the campers. Bethany and Jessica stood in front of each other, nose to nose; Catherine tried to restrain Paul from doing anything; Rose stood to the side, trembling slightly. Air rose in Sunshine's chest, filled with words; he looked over at Chiron, who stood silently, listening. Sunshine's eyes asked a question and Chiron answered with a head nod.

"I think we all need to calm down," Chiron said. Sunshine began to play his ukulele. The song was nothing named, only some notes and words that fit perfectly together. His chords floated over the campers, and at once, he could see the change in attitude for the better. The campers began to lower their voices as they were filled with Sunshine's music. Soon, all the campers stopped yelling. All eyes turned to him, listening to his musical ingenuity. After a few more notes and words, he stopped playing.

"Everyone good?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah," Mike replied. "I feel relaxed, calm, at peace."

"That's awesome," Sunshine replied. He turned to Chiron who nodded his head in approval.

"Thank you Sunshine," he said.

"Just doing my job," Sunshine replied. Chiron turned to the campers.

"We need to get this quest started now more than ever," he said.

"But Chiron," Catherine started. "There are still some things to talk about. What did the skeletons mean by 'Long live Darkness' and 'With Death chained'—"

"I appreciate your drive for understanding, Catherine, but I'm afraid to admit that we already know who we're up against," Chiron said. Sorrow filled his voice, almost like… almost like he felt bad for someone. Or something.

"Wait," Catherine said thinking. "So you mean, it is Hades?"

"He is the only one who is referred to as the 'Lord of Darkness'," Chiron said.

"Come on," Naomi said. "You cannot believe Father sent these skeletons to attack. He has no reason to en—to en—hurt this camp."

"You are very right, Naomi," Chiron said gently. "I myself don't believe it, but there is no one else who has the power to control the dead except for you and your father, and we already concluded that it wasn't you." Naomi sat down in disbelief.

"But Father," she muttered to herself.

"We may not know what is going on with Lord Hades," Chiron said aloud to the other campers. "But we certainly can figure it out through this quest. Rose, daughter of Demeter and head of the Demeter cabin, you will consult the Oracle."

It had been a good five minutes. Rose made her way to the camp counselors that surrounded the ping pong table. Sunshine played a nice, slow song on his ukulele, keeping everyone peaceful and calm.

"Well?" asked Chiron. He couldn't hide the curiosity in his voice.

"I don'... I dinnae ken," Rose said slowly.

"What?" asked Valerie. "I couldn't understand you."

Rose's face turned red. She cleared her throat. "I don' know. In Gaelic—it was… interesting. The Oracle."

"What did the Oracle say?" Chiron asked.

"I don'—I can tell my teammates," Rose replied. "But I don' want to—look, if you were in ma shoes, you would know. You would know. Chiron—"

Chiron, sensing distress, gently cut in. "You don't have to tell us."

"It would be preferable if you did," Paul cut in, because somehow he was there. Sunshine strummed his ukulele harder, trying to keep the peace. Paul's voice sliced over the music. "It'd be preferable if you did, Rose, it would—"

"No one is obligated to tell anyone anything," Chiron stated. In the absence of his centaur hooves, he smacked his fist on the arm of his wheelchair for emphasis.

"I know that I want Naomi," Rose blurted out. Naomi blushed.

"Yeah," she said, looking like a tomato. Or a lobster. Sunshine thought of the tomatoes he used to grow, way back when, before the monsters. "Sure."

Paul, of course, had to say something. " What? Why would you choose _her_?" Sunshine, quite loudly, strummed his ukulele and cleared his throat. For emphasis.

"Pa-ul," he sang. "Calm down. Keep the peace, man." Surprisingly, Paul sat back down in his chair.

"She'll help fight off the possible dead things. But I don' know about th'other camper," Rose said, simply. "Does—do you think anyone wants to volunteer?"

Immediately, Paul stuck his hand up in the air. It quivered slightly. Sunshine plucked an errant string completely by accident; he cursed inside his mind and played on like nothing was wrong. Rose eyes turned pleadingly towards Valerie, who couldn't meet her eyes.

"Anyone?" Rose asked, ignoring Paul, staring straight at Val.

Sunshine looked around the rec room. Val invested herself in her shoes, interesting as they were. Then Rose looked at Mike, who was quick to look at Bethany as if her oily, black hair was the most interesting thing in the world. Rose looked around the room and, except Paul, no one met Rose's eyes.

 _If you see someone in need, it's your own soul crying out for help,_ said the memory of Sunshine's mom. One of them, anyway. Sunshine raised his hand. Rose looked and a wave of relief washed over her.

"I'll do it," he said. "I'll go on the quest."

"Right," Rose said, clapping her hands together on the word. "Chiron, I have my team."

Paul sat down with an incredulous look.

"So it is settled," Chiron said finally. "Rose, Sunshine, and Naomi, I would like to speak with you three in private. The rest of you are allowed to return to your cabins." Everyone, except Rose and her teammates, began to leave.

"Yes, Chiron?" Naomi asked. Chiron took a deep breath and looked at Rose.

"We need to discuss the prophecy you received, Rose," he said, looking deeply at her. "I understand why you might not want to share, but trust me when I say sharing this now will help you in the long run."

Rose inhaled deeply.

" _Be forewarned of the darkness, he seethes in his rage_

 _He keeps keeps Death and his Sunlight caught in their cage_

 _All the dead are unleashed on a day filled with snow_

 _Go quickly and swiftly, but slowly you'll go."_

"So, that's our prophecy?" Sunshine asked Rose. Rose nodded. They turned to Chiron, who was deep in thought.

"Well," he began. "We have reason to believe that Hades is the one commanding these skeletons, but I have never heard of him being referred to as simply _Darkness."_

"What do you mean?" Naomi asked.

"Hades is sometimes referred to as the Lord of Darkness, but just Darkness on its own… that is something entirely new."

"Well, who else could it be then?" asked Rose.

"I don't know," Chiron said mostly under his breath. "It can't be anyone else but him. No one else has the power to command the dead like he can, except Thanatos himself. But apparently he's locked up in a cage somewhere."

"Along with Sunlight," Rose said. "But who could that be?"

"Maybe it's some kind of metaphor," Sunshine said. "Maybe the 'Sunlight' refers to the happiness that he has locked up deep down inside."

"That could be true," Chiron said. "Moving on, the next line needs no interpretation. Hades must be planning to let the dead loose onto the world."

Sunshine contemplated his belongings. His ukulele, as always, lay in the small of his back, ready at any moment to strum a chord. In the corner next to his bunk, a small box with replacement strings and picks sat on an alcove, and beneath the alcove, a small quiver of arrows leaned against the wall, which he had never used. The bow hung above his bed, like all the other guys did with theres. It was some sort of pride in the weapon that Sunshine could never understand.

He slung his ukulele box-painted with yellow and pink flowers-and his spare camp shirt into the duffel bag lying on his bed. People were coming back from dinner; Sunshine's stomach growled, just on cue, and he looked forlornly at the old granola bars sitting at the bottom of his bag. They were for emergencies, and he was not allowed to eat them until the quest started.

After a moment of deliberation, he set the letters he had received from his parents into the pocket on the side of his bag, before anyone could see them. He didn't want anything happening to them while he was gone.

One of the guys clapped Sunshine on the shoulder. There were only a few year-long campers in Apollo cabin, so Sunshine knew each of them by name. This one was Kyle, and he said, "Sunshine! Buddy. Heard you got accepted for a quest. Congrats, dude!"

"Thanks, Kyle," Sunshine said, turning around with a smile on his face. "I am indeed going on a quest. Real vague prophecy, you know?" He waved his hand back and forth between them. "We're leaving in the morning."

"Nice, nice," Kyle said, nodding his head deep, like a chicken. "Yeah. You, uh, you gonna take your bow? You know, like, Apollo represent, man!" He put his fist in the air between them.

"I don't know," Sunshine said, watching his bow on the wall. "Probably. Just in case, right? In case something bad happened."

"Bummer," Kyle said dejectedly. "Man, I really needed a bow, man. You know, mine's all… bottoms up, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Sunshine said. "Okay. Do you, I don't know, need to borrow mine? I can go to the tool shed and get you one, maybe."

"Oh, no, don't go to the trouble," Kyle said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's fine, it's cool, just… you won't be gone long, right?"

"No," Sunshine said, "I won't be gone long. Yeah, fine, you can borrow my bow. I probably wouldn't be using it anyway."

"Thanks, man, you're worth your weight in gold," Kyle said. He dodged around Sunshine and grabbed the bow hanging on the wall. "Thanks a million!"

"No problem," Sunshine said to Kyle's retreating back. "Yep."

"I can' believe you don' have ya bow," Rose said early the next morning. Him, Rose and Naomi were all packed and ready for their quest. They dressed in their fall best. Rose wore a black, flower print Bomber jacket over a black shirt. She wore simple blue jeans and black boots. She had a bracelet made of grass and a satchel covered with painted flowers by her side. Naomi wore an oversized, pastel purple sweater that read "cute" and an oversized coat. She wore a black skirt, black knee length socks, and black Converse. She had Skullcandy headphones around her neck, and her baseball bat hung on her back. Sunshine was not entirely in what you would call "fall wear." He dressed in an orange tie-dyed shirt, khakis shorts, and sandals. A bandanna was on his head, and he wore his camp necklace and a bracelet he made himself. His clothes would probably be considered "summer wear," but Sunshine didn't mind. He wasn't bothered by the cold. They were heading to Half-Blood Hill.

"It's fine," Sunshine said. "I hardly use it anyway. I'd rather use the music from my heart to conquer the madness in this world."

"Is that right?" Rose asked. "Well, what if the monsters aren't susceptible to ya music, then? You'll need another weapon." Sunshine opened his mouth in protest, but Rose kept going.

"I know how ya feel abou' weapons and what not, but this is the real world. And in the real world, demigods like you can get killed. At least Naomi has Celestial bronze barbed wire around her bat."

"I don't know why you brought the only two kids in the entire camp who don't know how to fight with you on this quest to fight a _god,"_ a familiar voice said.

Sunshine turned around to find Paul Winters coming up behind him, a backpack slung over his shoulders as if he was going somewhere. He was probably the most well-dressed demigod Sunshine had ever seen. He wore a grey sweater over a white, button-down shirt. He also wore blue jeans, and black Converse. He had a black tie with a silver owl pinned in it, and he wore a trench coat. He had a bow by his side and arrows on his back. His sword, sheathed, hung by side.

"What on Earth—" Naomi started. The hand that held her baseball bat jumped; she refrained from actually hitting Paul, thankfully. "Where do you come from? How do you do that?"

"I have my ways," Paul said. He shoved the bow and arrows unceremoniously into Sunshine's hands. "Here, you'll need this."

"Oh," Sunshine said, staring bemusedly at the weapons. "Thank you."

"No problem," Paul said, skipping ahead of the group, his hands holding the straps of his backpack, slung over his shoulders. He turned back to face Sunshine and the rest of the group, hopping from one foot to another. "To where are we headed?"

"I don' know what ya mean," Rose said. "You are not going anywhere."

"Nonsense," Paul said, his voice laced with confidence. "We are going on a quest, are we not? You need me."

"That is a lie," Naomi said, in her way. "We're fine on our own." Paul scoffed.

"Oh puh- _lease,"_ he said condescendingly. "You need my intelligence, my strategic battle skills, my—"

"Ability to annoy the crap out of us?" Rose asked.

"No," Paul replied quickly. "You know what? I don't have to explain why I'm _clearly_ needed on this quest. Your simple brains simply cannot comprehend the fact that your odds are extremely stacked against you due to the fact that you, Rose, chose the worst demigods to _ever_ exist with you on this quest to fight a god and his army of dead beings. You should be honored that I'm offering my assistance to you."

"Oh, yes, thank you, thank you," Naomi replied sarcastically. "Thank you, your holiness, for offering your wisdom and guidance to us for this quest. Now that you're done, you can leave."

"You're cute," Paul replied, a touch (more than a touch) condescending. "But just because you are Hades's child doesn't make you an eligible candidate for this quest. You have _no_ experience, _no_ skills, you don't have a proper weapon, meaning you're bound to die, and you aren't that smart. None of you are. I've studied the art of war, battle techniques, survival skills, even the Underworld! What do you all bring to the table?"

Sunshine and Rose remained quiet, but Naomi spoke out. "I know how to get to the Underworld too, you little _shit."_

"Oh really," Paul said. "And how?"

"Through the DOA Studios in Los Angeles," Naomi said confidently. Rose looked at Paul as if Naomi outsmarted him for once, but Paul simply laughed.

"What are you laughing for?" Rose asked confused. "She gave you your answer. We know what we're doing. You can leave."

"You all really _don't_ know what you're doing ," Paul said in between breaths. "There is a much simpler way to get into the Underworld."

"What?" asked Naomi. "No there isn't."

"Yes there is. It's called the Door of Orpheus and it's right here in New York," Paul replied. "I'd expect a _real_ child of Hades to know that." Naomi blushed.

"Well, where is it?" Sunshine asked finally speaking.

"I'm not telling you," Paul said. "If I do, then you'll have no need to take me with you."

"Good point," Rose said. "But even _if_ we wanted to take you with us, which would never happen, you couldn't go with us. The rules state that only three demigods can go on a quest. It keeps the demigods safe because the monsters will smell too many demigods."

"Do you not know how many times that rule has been broken?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, but those were on _special_ occasions," Rose said.

"My half-sister, Annabeth, broke that rule, and her quest wasn't a special occasion," Paul said.

"Well, yeah but—" Rose started. But Sunshine cut her off.

"Guys," he said. "Stop the arguing. It's not good for us. We all need to get along. Rose, we really need to get going on this quest. Argus has been waiting for us for quite some time. Paul is coming with us. He can help us out a lot, and Naomi, I don't want to hear anything. Now come on. We have a quest to do." Everyone looked at Sunshine, clearly not expecting him to say what he just said, but Sunshine didn't care. He knew he was right. Sunshine grabbed his stuff and began to make his way down the the white van waiting for them.


	6. VI: Walter

Walter was dreaming. It happened sometimes; it was a demigod thing. Sometimes they would give demigods visions of the past, the present, or the future. Walter had wondered more than once who sent them.

He knew this dream—he'd been receiving it ever since he landed in Vegas. He was in some sort of field. A breeze rustled the waist-high grains, showing shades of gold underneath the green. Not a cloud in the sky, nor a sun, though the crisp blue lit the world with harsh midday shadows. A tall oak tree stood in the distance, proud and strong. He wished he could stay here forever, but he knew that that was impossible. You couldn't stay in a dream forever. Eventually, everyone wakes up.

Walter looked around. No one was there. He was by himself, as usual, but as soon as his back turned from the oak tree, he heard a voice speak.

"Find me," the voice said. The voice belonged to a Scottish accent, which belonged to a girl. Walter turned around and found rose red hair, a spray of freckles, bright green eyes that stared deep into his soul. The girl wore a short, white dress. A white rose was tucked behind her ear, folding her hair along with it. Vines wrapped around her arms and legs. She looked like a goddess, a picture of elegance, someone demanding his attention.

"Who are you?" Walter asked.

"Find me," the girl said, as if she hadn't heard his question. There was a sense of deep urgency in her voice. "I need your help. _We_ need your help."

"Who are _we?"_ Walter asked. He walked closer to the girl, but she got farther away with every step. "Why do you need help? Where are you?" Walter knew that he wasn't going to get any answers from her. He asked anyway.

"We need your help on this quest. We can't do this without you. Find us. Find me," the girl said. Her voice was getting fainter as she was getting farther away, but she wasn't going anywhere. The wind began to pick up, blowing through the girl's hair, but Walter didn't feel anything.

"I need you, Walter," the girl said. The girl began to burst into white rose petals that the wind blew away. Walter watched as the petals floated up and up and up until they disappeared from sight. The barley grains tickled his bare wrists.

"Wait," Walter called out, rather delayed. "Where are you? How do I find you? Why me?" The petals, far away as they were, did not reply.

"Walter," called a unfamiliar voice. The voice belonged to a woman, but it sounded sleepy. "Walter. Come to me. I _need_ you." The scene changed—instantly, Walter was on edge. He wasn't sure what was going to happen.

Street lamps illuminated the sidewalks. The air blew cold down his shirt. Jazz music filled the atmosphere. The buildings were close together, seeming to loom in the dim twilight. Walter needed to clear his head. Something bothered him—he had elected to take a walk, get some fresh air, clear his head. He had burst out of the room he shared with his sister and escaped into New Orleans without even a coat.

"I'm sorry, Walter," a little girl said in their cramped two-bed, one sink room. "I'm sorry for what they did."

Walter said nothing to the ghost in his head. In a moment, she disappeared. Walter walked with his slacks and his shoes and his lack of a coat.

"Walter," called a woman's voice. Walter stopped and looked around. Who was trying to talk to him this late at night? He looked down a dark alleyway, which seemed to be where the voice was coming from.

"Must be the wind," he told himself. He made plans to walk away, but he heard the voice again.

"Come to me," the voice whispered. How he heard a whisper, Walter did not know, but the voice seemed powerful despite its quietness. "I'm over here." The voice was definitely coming from down the alleyway. With a quick and quiet step, Walter peered around the edge of the buildings.

"Come here, little demigod," a woman said. Walter found her and he immediately wished he hadn't. She was wearing the most revealing dress known to man. Her blonde hair was partly done up, and she looked as if she'd had a very busy night. But despite all of… that, there was something definitely off about her. Her eyes were milky white, as if she was possessed by something, or someone. She tapped the glowing end of a cigarette; red ashes spread across the cobblestones.

"Who are you?" Walter heard himself say.

"This body would normally be called Virginia, but since _I'm_ here, you may call me… you may call me Gaea," the woman said. Her words slurred as if she was talking in her sleep.

"This is a dream," Walter muttered.

"And a memory. Come, walk with me." The woman kicked off of the wall, and Walter found himself in the Botanical Gardens, walking along with a false prostitute at his side.

"If you work with me, I can grant you wishes beyond your wildest imagination," Gaea said, the words sounding dull.

"I have already accepted and regretted it," Walter said. "What do you want with me? Why dream about me now?"

Gaea stopped and turned to face Walter, a fresh cigarette glowing between them. "I dream about many demigods nowadays," she said. "You just happen to be dreaming the same time I am. Look at the lily pads. Aren't they beautiful?"

Walter turned to stare into the water of the long, long, man-made pond. At the far end of it, a house settled in the night, its shutters welded tight against the wind, ivy and the threatening kudzu stealing up its red brick walls.

He could barely see the lily pads in the dim dark of the night. The water reflected the streetlamps above; the stars were blotted out.

Walter waited with tightly regulated breath for Gaea to speak again, but he could not tear his gaze away from the water, and as it rose higher and higher into the air, he could see in the pool's reflection that she wasn't beside him any longer.

All at once, he woke up.

"We're at Central Park, kid," Bret said from the front seat. "I'll get us a snack for the rest of the road; it'll be a ways yet until we reach Maine."

"Yeah?" Walter asked. "Well, while you do that, I kind of need a new pair of clothes. Got any money?" Bret pulled out his wallet and handed Walter one of his many credit cards.

"Try not to max it out," he said. "And the code is 1943."

"I don't even know what this is," Walter said taking the plastic card.

"What do you mean?" Bret asked. "You don't know what a credit card is?"

"Look around you. I don't know what anything here is, not really," Walter said. Bret rolled his eyes.

"Okay then," Bret said. "Well, you hand the cashier the card and when the cashier asks 'debit of credit' just say debit. Got it?"

"Yes, I think," Walter said. He opened to car door and walked out. There in front of him was a store called Capsule NYC. He walked in and looked around. There was a lady looking a some clothes.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Walter said as politely as possible, but that was hard when the lady was giving him a very disgusted look. Guess walking around shirtless and barefoot was not the way to go."I'd like to buy some clothes."

"Oh, I don't work here," she said trying not to sound offended. "Um, but he does." She pointed at a man probably in his early twenties. He wore a simple collared shirt, pants, and shoes. He had a nametag that read "Joel."

"Um, Joel," Walter said. He pronounced the name like _Joe-ell_ much to his dislike.

"It's pronounced like _Joe-l_ ," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Walter apologized.

"It's okay, I guess," Joel replied. "Anyway, how can I help you?"

"I'd like to buy some clothes," Walter said.

"Um, okay," Joel said. "Well, do you know what you want to buy?"

"I just told you," Walter said confused. "I want some clothes."

"That's not what I meant," Joel said. "I meant do you know what type of clothes you want."

"Oh," Walter said. "Well, why didn't you just say that. I have no idea, just some regular clothes. Maybe a jacket too."

"Well, here's what we'll do," Joel said. "You look around for something that you like then get back to me. Until then, I'll be helping some other people, okay?"

"Okay then," Walter said. Joel left Walter to help some other guy. Walter looked around the store. He couldn't decide what he wanted. He thought that he would start with the jackets and make his way down to shoes.

"Alrighty then, let's get cracking," he told himself clapping his hands together.

It took about a good fifteen minutes before Walter was ready to go back to Joel. He showed Joel the clothes he picked out and Joel directed him to the changing rooms.

"Try them on and see if they fit," he said slowly to make sure Walter understood. "If they do, take them off and we'll check the clothes out for you."

"Gotcha," Walter said. Then he went into the changing room and closed the door. Walter was able to try on the clothes ha picked out, and he looked at himself in the mirror.

"They fit," he told himself. He wore a purple leather jackets over a black, zip-up hoodie. He wore a white t-shirt with a dripping skull, black jeans, and black Converses. "And you look good, well your hair could use some work. Oh wait…" He began to pull his necklace from underneath his shirt. He didn't know where it came from or who gave it to him, but he knew it was important. It was just a simple necklace with a gemstone pendant. He remembered that someone told him that the gemstone was a tourmaline, but he couldn't remember who.

"One day," Walter told himself. "You'll remember everything one day. Maybe the girl will help you." He began to imagine her in his head, but was immediately interrupted by the worst thing ever.

"Have you seen a boy?" said a voice all too familiar. Walter immediately rushed to the door and began to listen. "He's about yea tall, he has brown hair, blue eyes, shirtless, shoeless."

"Those damned Furies followed me all the way here?" Walter asked himself quietly. "Can I never catch a break?"

"I did, but I don't know what happened to him?" said the lady he talked to earlier. "Why are you looking for him?"

"He's our grandson," said one of the Furies. Walter turned to look through the crack of the door. He couldn't see much, but he could see the Furies. They were in their old lady forms, so the woman probably did think that he was their grandson. They wore crumpled velvet dresses, shapeless knit hats that came in red, yellow, and blue, they carried handbags, and weirdest of all, they all wore black leather jackets making Walter immediately regret getting one of his own.

"Um, he's the grandson of all three of you?" the lady asked in disbelief.

"Yes," the Fury on the right said. "He ran away from us because he didn't want to face punishment—I mean, eat our delicious cookies." The lady looked as if she finally understood why Walter came to her shirtless and shoeless.

"It is very important that we find him," said the Fury on the left. "We slave over that stove for days." The lady raised an eyebrow.

"Making cookies shouldn't take days," the lady said.

"It does for us," said the Fury in the middle. "We are terrible at making cookies."

"I guess," said the lady. "Well, like I said, I don't know where he ran off to, but I know that Joel was the last person to see him."

"Is that so?" the middle Fury asked. "Well where is this Joel?"

"Over there," the lady replied.

"Thank you miss," the right Fury said. Then the Furies shuffled together over to Joel, and out of sight. Walter cursed to himself.

"Have you seen our grandson?" he heard them ask in unison. "He's about yea tall, brown hair, blue eyes, shirtless, shoeless."

 _Please say no, please say no,_ Walter thought to himself.

"Yes I have," Joel said. "He's over in the changing rooms.

 _Curse you Joel,_ Walter thought. _Think, think, think!_

"If I can somehow get Joel to lead those Furies somewhere else, then I can escape, get in the car with Bret, and drive away," Walter told himself. "I need to be quick, but what to do." Then Walter got an idea. He remembered doing a little trick that helped him escape a Steak N' Shake somewhere in Nevada. It worked that time, so maybe it could work again. Walter snapped his fingers and immediately heard a sharp, pop kind of sound.

"Actually," Walter heard Joel say. "I saw the boy you're looking for leave shortly after talking to the woman."

"Are you sure?" the middle Fury asked. "You just said—"

"I'm positive," Joel said. "I thought I saw him go to the changing rooms, but that must've been someone else."

"Well, do you know where he could've headed?" the left Fury asked.

"He didn't say," Joel said dumbly. "He just left."

Walter silently thanked God. The Furies were confused. They must have decided that Joel couldn't help them anymore, since he heard no more conversation. He waited for a minute just to make sure they were truly gone. He needed to get out of the store quickly, but knowing the Furies, they probably were sticking around just to make sure that Walter truly wasn't there. Walter began to pull the tags off the clothes and grabbed his backpack. He opened the changing room and quickly began to speed walk out of the store, but he was stopped by Joel.

"Hey, you look like that boy those ladies were talking about, and those clothes look familiar. Did you pay for those?" Walter snapped his fingers again and there was another sharp pop sound.

"I'm not that boy," Walter said quickly. "Clearly, I have blonde hair and green eyes, and I already paid for these clothes. Remember?"

"Oh you are totally right," Joel said embarrassed. "Funny, it looked like you had brown hair and blue eyes for a second."

"I never did," Walter said. "You're probably just seeing things. Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

"Now that I think about it," Joel began. "I believe I did when I was cleaning under the counter."

"Well, maybe you should go to the hospital or something," Walter said. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but my dad is waiting outside and I really need to get going."

"Oh yeah, of course," Joel said. "Sorry for holding you up."

"It's no problem," Walter said. "Good day." And he left the store. Walter saw Bret waiting by his car and he began to make his way toward him, but he was stopped by that familiar, godawful voice.

"That was a neat trick you pulled on us back there," the voice said. Walter turned around and found the three Furies standing behind him still in old lady form.

"It takes a very skilled demigod to manipulate the Mist like that," said the Fury on the right. "You may have fooled us once, son of Hecate, but you weren't going to fool us again."

"You guys looked plenty fooled to me," Walter said. "But you know what they say, practice makes perfect. _Murus ignis_ _!_ " Immediately, Walter thrust out his hands and a giant wall of fire erupted between him and the Furies. Walter turned and ran away from the wailing Furies. The Furied burst through the wall of fire in their true, monstrous forms. They flew at Walter whips ablazing. Walter ran towards Bret, but he realized how much danger he could be in if Walter tried to get in the car with him.

" _Non dimisit ex animo_ ," Walter called out to Bret. Bret expression immediately changed to one of confusion.

"Where am I?" he asked himself. "What day is it? Am I in New York? Oh shit! I'm supposed to be in Oregon for Louisa's wedding!" He got back in his car. Walter watched him disappear into the New York City traffic.

"Nice knowing ya, Bret," Walter said to himself.

One of the Furies whips lashed right past Walter's face. He immediately began to run down Dr. Martin Luther King Blvd.

Running in a busy New York City proved to be pretty difficult. There were so many people that he had to push through and he definitely wanted to avoid getting hit by one of the many, if not all the cars in the busy streets. Not to mention the Furies were chasing him as he tried to weave his way through the crowds of people. He could only go forward, but it was like wading through a powerful river against the current. But Walter couldn't stop. He only had to keep going. He didn't know where to, but he knew he had to get to some open space to at least fight the Furies. He'd done it for the past several days.

Walter kept running until he came to a street called Malcolm X Blvd, then ran right through the street. Cars stopped immediately so they don't hit him, and many drivers honked their horns in frustration.

"What are you doing?" a taxi driver yelled sticking his head out of the window.

"Running for my life!" Walter yelled, there was another whip hurling towards Walter. He tried to dodge, but it proved difficult in the middle of the street surrounded by cars. The whip ended up cutting his arm. Walter yelled out in pain. His entire arm felt as if it was just thrown into fire. Blood began to appear, but Walter didn't have time to tend to it. He had to keep running. He turned on his heels and began his way down Malcolm X Blvd holding his bleeding arm. In front of him, he saw the beginnings of Central Park.

 _Open space_ , he thought. _I can finally deal with these bastards_. He kept running. The Furies howled behind him.

"You can't run from us demigod," one of the Furies yelled. "No matter where you go, no matter what spell you throw at us, you cannot stop us. We will forever continue to torment you until we wreak vengeance on you for the men you helped kill."

"I already told you," Walter shouted back. "I don't know what you're talking about! I never helped kill _anyone!"_ He made it through one of the entrances of Central Park. He didn't know where to stop, so he kept on running.

He wanted to stop. Didn't even know if he should. He turned and looked at the Furies flying towards him. Could he cast a spell? Did he even have the energy too? He was exhausted thanks to the running, and the wall of fire spell he'd cast and his arm bleeding, feeling like it was on fire.

Deep down, Walter knew that he couldn't stand a chance against the Furies. He turned and kept running holding his arm.

"Please, someone," he called out, barely more than a whisper. "Help me." But no one in Central park did. The most people did was look at him in a disturbed way. Maybe they didn't see the Furies. Maybe they saw some boy getting chased by some pigeons or something. Walter kept running until he tripped and fell. Pain shot through his ankle—he must have twisted it. He looked at what could have caused his fall and saw a giant tree root protruding from the ground.

"Damn it," he choked out. "I don't have _time_ for this!" He tried to get up, but more pain shot through his ankle. He was stuck. Walter looked to the skies and saw the Furies closing in on him.

"You are ours, son of Hecate," The Furies howled in unison. "Vengeance will be served!"

This is it. This was the end.

Walter would die here, stuck under some dumb tree because his dumb ankle is twisted and these dumb people wouldn't help him. After days of running and fighting for his life, after days of near-death experiences, he would die because of a twisted ankle.

Walter had to do something about it. He could cast a healing spell, but his mind was too cluttered. He couldn't focus. There were constant bursts of pains, a sense of tiredness, and, much to Walter's dislike, unmotivation.

A part of Walter wanted to die. He was tired. He had been living in a constant circle of life and death ever since he left the Lotus Hotel and Casino. He just wanted to end it all, get this done and over with. Plus, deep down, Walter felt as if he didn't deserve to live anyway. He couldn't explain it, but all this "running for your life" stuff really brought some deep seated feelings in Walter. He felt as if he'd been through something like this before, and there was some sort of tragedy to it. The Furies honed in on him.

"Vengeance!" they yelled in unison. They brandished their whips and lashed them at Walter.

Walter threw his hands up in protection, but he knew that it wouldn't really do anything. He was ready for death, but nothing seemed to happen. Maybe it was quick and painless. How nice of the Furies to do that.

He opened his eyes to see where he ended up—the Underworld? But when he looked around, he was still in Central Park in the middle of a bright afternoon. Puffy clouds floated across the sky. The leaves of the tree above him swayed in the breeze.

"What?" He looked up and saw the Furies howling in anger. The lashed their whips at him, but nothing touched him. He looked around and saw a faint, purple glow around him. Some type of force field? He didn't know how—he hadn't cast any spell—but somehow he was concentrated on his force field. It was as if something else kicked in, like some sort of survival instinct.

Walter watched as the Furies tried to get through his force field. It wouldn't take long for the Furies to get through. The more they tried, the more his concentration on it broke.

"Walter, do something," he told himself. He was losing concentration on his force field, losing energy. Maybe he couldn't do anything, but he had to at least _try._

Little cracks began to form in the force field as the Furies did everything they could to break it. The cracks were spreading, and Walter knew his force field would give out at any second. With a last burst of energy, he brought his hands down and pushed them up as if his was pushing a heavy ball of the ground. The force field expanded into a blast, sending the Furies high in the air. Walter fell down exhausted, his force field no longer protecting him. He was now fair game to the Furies. They immediately turned themselves towards him, but he heard a familiar voice call out—

"Sunshine, check on the boy! Paul, Naomi, you two help me fight these blasted creatures!"

This guy loomed over him. He had golden blonde hair and brown eyes and the shiniest smile Walter had ever seen. "We'll protect you," he said reassuringly. "You look like you've been through some trouble."

"Who… who are you?" Walter managed to ask between heavy breaths. He tried to get up, but pain shot through his ankle. He bit back a whine through his teeth.

"Hey hey hey," the guy said. "Try not to move right now." Walter turned his head and saw three other teenagers fighting off the Furies. There was the girl with the red hair, fighting the middle Fury. Huge vines erupted around her and they began to wrap around the Fury. There was another girl swinging a baseball bat covered in barbed wire at the left Fury, and yet another blonde guy swinging a sword at the right Fury.

The girl with the bat managed to hit the Fury, which burst into dust; the guy with the sword sliced the right Fury open into a burst of its own golden dust.

That left only the middle Fury, who sliced through the red haired girl's vines. The girl with the baseball bat walked up to the middle Fury—something about her halted the action taking place in front of Walter.

"I, Naomi Pradchapet, daughter of Hades, order you, Alecto, to stop hunting this boy," she said.

"But, Your Highness—" the Fury began, but she was cut off by the girl.

"I assure you that whatever this boy did, I handle, and you let Father know," the girl said. Walter noticed her stumble through a few words. "You are dismissed. Thank you for service." The Fury obviously didn't like her new orders. She landed on the ground aggressively. Green fire began to form around the Fury.

"This boy deserves to burn in Hades," the Fury spat.

"I will be judge of that," Naomi said. With that, and not a scream, the Fury was consumed by the fire.

"Thank you, Naomi," the red haired girl said. "Now let's see who we're dealing with." The golden haired guy was able to help Walter sit upright. He watched as the red haired girl and her friends got closer to him and the golden haired boy.

"I'm Sunshine, by the way," the golden haired boy said suddenly. Walter held back a laugh.

"Sunshine?" Walter repeated. "What, were you raised by hippies?"

"Yes," Sunshine said. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Oh. Oh, no," Walter said, immediately straightening up. "It's a… _fine_ name." Sunshine looked at him with disbelief.

"So, Sunshine," the red haired girl said in a thick Scottish accent. "Who is this?" Walter looked up at the girl and was immediately taken aback to the point where he gasped.

It was _her._

"I… I know you," Walter said pointing at the girl.

"What?" the girl asked.

"Yes," Walter said excitedly. "I know you. You're the girl from my dreams, the one that needed my help. You told me to find you, and I finally did. I finally found you."


End file.
